


Future Connections

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Primeval
Genre: Drama, Future Fic, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28239144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Stephen and Cutter both end up the wrong side of an anomaly.
Relationships: Nick Cutter/Stephen Hart
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Future Connections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Titti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/gifts).



> Written as a Christmas present for the lovely titti who gave the prompt “dimensional travel of future Christmas where they are together.”

“Run!”

Stephen would have responded to that if he were able, he'd point out to whichever one of the soldiers who was shouting at him – why was it that he could never remember the new one's names? - that he is running thank you very much, in fact he had started running the second the triceratops decided to make a break for the car where he'd been leaning moments before and which had now disappeared down an embankment and crashed into a fast flowing river with a splash of warm water that hit his thighs.

He kept going, trying to map the route before him as he jumped inelegantly over a discarded shopping trolley that had no business being in the Peak District National Park and flailed to keep his balance as the ground below shifted and sputtered. He could see Abby, her bright red t-shirt a little off to the right, her gait unsteady as she carried the tranquilliser gun that he feared would make no difference. He needed to circle back around, get the triceratops to follow him, only as he started to veer to the left he felt a familiar tug at the zip on his jeans, felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as an anomaly opened up straight in front of him, appearing so fully formed that he had no way of stopping, no way to leap to the side, he could only go through, tumbling to the ground and launching himself to the right, rolling and twisting and making himself into as small a target as possible as the triceratops barrelled through the anomaly after him and carried straight on without stopping.

Stephen looked up, tried to make himself move, but the anomaly slipped closed and he sagged down onto his back instead, momentarily giving up.

* * * * *

“What do you mean, gone?”

“Another anomaly opened up. He didn't have a choice, with the triceratops after him...”

“Yes,” Lester said, interrupting Abby, the phone in his hand feeling heavy. He paused, and then more quietly said, “I'm not blaming him. Or you. It's just...”

He looked out over the atrium. The bedraggled masses of Cutter's team who'd been out at an anomaly shout in Devon still looked somewhat shell-shocked even though they'd washed and eaten and tried to get some sleep.

“I'm sorry, Abby. It's just that we've lost Cutter through an anomaly too.”

* * * * *

**20 years in the future**

Stephen supposed he should have expected something like this, to be lying on his back on what felt like grass and looking up at himself, or rather an older, bearded version of himself who was looking down at him as if he were a specimen under a microscope. Stephen hoped he was not about to find himself in some nightmare of a future but the way his luck had been going lately he wasn't prepared to bet against it.

“Stephen Hart, I presume,” older Stephen said, lips tugging into a smile that Stephen found familiar and strange all at once.

“Ha ha,” Stephen said and allowed himself to be helped up to his feet.

He looked around, saw an older Abby who looked different with her hair long, an older Jenny who looked prettier if anything without any make-up on and an older soldier, the new boy, the one who'd yelled at him to run, only this time he was pointing a gun right at Stephen's chest. He found himself rolling his eyes and turned back to his older twin.

“So, take me to your leader?” Stephen asked.

He saw his other self roll his eyes and then motion for Becker – aha, that was his name! - to put his weapon down. He did so, reluctantly, and stalked off somewhere officious no doubt.

“What happened?”

Stephen shrugged. “Anomaly opened in front of me, didn't have time to get out the way. Did you – the triceratops?”

“In containment,” the other Stephen said. He reached out and touched a finger to Stephen's head, coming away with daubs of red. “Medical for you, first.”

Stephen hadn't even realised he'd been hurt, but then – perhaps that fuzzy feeling in his stomach wasn't so much about looking at himself but the onset of a concussion. Just what he needed.

* * * * *

Cutter woke in a prison cell. At least, that's what he thought until he spotted the sloth hanging from a rope near the ceiling. Which meant he was in some sort of zoo cage. That didn't strike him as a good development.

He coughed, cleared his throat and tried to stand which is when he realised that his right ankle if not broken was definitely sprained. He tried to remember the events of the last few days. None of them were pleasant memories. There was the argument with Stephen, about Helen of course, then the divergent anomaly calls, the splitting of the team in two – an omen he'd tried to ignore – and then a bloody ankylsaurus in the middle of Exeter and his reflexes hadn't been quite quick enough to avoid the tumble into an anomaly, Connor's shout of alarm following him through.

He coughed again, realised that the air was a little smoky, then realised with an alarm that had him jumping to his feet, injured ankle be damned, that wherever the hell he was it was about to be burned to the ground.

He started to yell, coughed, moved toward the door which had no handle, of course it bloody didn't, eyed the sloth carefully though he knew there was no danger from that quarter, and moved towards the window and started to bang on it as hard as he could.

He couldn't hear anything, certainly nothing human, no alarms either though, no sense that this was a working zoo or that anyone was out there, only if there wasn't, how the hell had the sloth survived in a room with no food?

He tried to regain his senses and searched the room as best he could. But all he could find was some discarded fruit in a corner, some straw and an empty water bowl. The fruit looked and felt fresh so that was a good sign, he thought. Maybe.

He moved down to the floor, the smoky haze making his eyes sting. What the hell could he do? he asked himself. He looked at the door again and moved towards it, tried to kick it with his good leg and pushed with his shoulders. No good.

Movement by the window made him pause and he turned to find himself looking at Stephen, shock etched on his face. It wasn't him of course, it was an older Stephen, bearded, hair greying slightly, worry lines a little more pronounced. They stared at each for a moment and then this other Stephen was yelling at older Connor who stumbled into view, looking like he'd just seen a ghost.

Cutter found himself shrugging and then looked expectantly at the others. They stared at him for a beat and then called out for someone else. The next moment Becker, an older more world weary looking Becker, was in sight and he motioned for Cutter to get down and cover himself, which he did, wary of Becker's military penchant for high explosives, but it wasn't like he had any choice so he braced himself, then remembered the sloth so he got up and grabbed it and pulled it close, its face a slow morphing of surprise as the glass window suddenly shattered all around them.

* * * * *

“What kind of containment doesn't have a door?”

“That's none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? You could have killed Cutter.”

“That's not my concern.”

Cutter slowly opened his eyes to see his Stephen and the other Stephen squaring off against each other. He was lying on a bed in a clean white room that was probably the infirmary and felt like his head was being crushed between a vice. Everything ached but he managed to reach forward and put a finger against Stephen's wrist.

Immediately Stephen's posture relaxed and he smiled, moving closer to Cutter's bed.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Cutter replied.

The other Stephen looked even angrier and called for the doctor. “We need him up and out of here as soon as possible.”

The doctor nodded, not even flinching at the other Stephen's harsh tone and without saying anything else, other Stephen left.

“Can't say I'm a big fan of your doppelgänger,” Cutter said.

Stephen snorted softly. “Me either. Seems like an arsehole.”

Cutter laughed and then groaned as something tucked at his ribs. Stephen moved quickly to sit him up and fluff his pillows for him. Cutter thought back to their argument and wondered why on earth he had been so willing to lash out when all Stephen had been doing was trying to explain himself.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I was kind of an arsehole myself, the last time we spoke.”

Stephen looked a little surprised, then smiled and moved a strand of Cutter's hair away from his forehead.

“I'm sorry too.”

The doctor looked vaguely shocked and Cutter wondered what kind of laws had changed in the last however many years.

“So, what's the verdict, doc?” Stephen asked, having noted the same shocked expression.

The doctor shook his head and then refocused on his task. “Sorry. Yes, bruised ribs, twisted ankle, probable concussion. Nothing life threatening.”

“And the rest?” Stephen asked. He put his hand on Cutter's shoulder and kept it there. The doctor moved away to fiddle with some bottles on a shelf.

“Doctor?” Cutter asked, sitting up straighter despite Stephen's attempts to make him sit still. “What's going on?”

There was a long silence before the doctor moved around to look at them. “It's just, I'm not used to seeing you – I mean, the other you – Let me show you something.”

Stephen made Cutter stay where he was as he followed the doctor out of the room and down the corridor to another more isolated room. The other Stephen was standing at the door, hesitating before going inside.

The doctor moved to show Stephen the observation window and they watched as the other Stephen went and sat down next to the other Cutter, who was lying still in the hospital bed hooked up to all sorts of tubes and medical equipment.

“What happened?”

“Helen Cutter. She launched an attack against the ARC last year. Cutter took the bullet meant for you. Or – him.”

Stephen pressed his hand against the window. “Is he going to be all right?”

“We're hopeful.”

“Sometimes hope is all you have,” Stephen said.

The other Stephen looked up, saw them staring and came out of the room.

“Did you want something?” he demanded.

“How did you two get past it?” Stephen asked. He didn't need to clarify what he was talking about.

The other Stephen looked impossibly old. “Helen's going to come to you. Tell Cutter. Tell Lester. Tell everybody. Don't keep anything back. It's only when we talked, _really_ talked that we were able to move past the hurt. I lashed out, he lashed out. It was, I'm not going to lie to you it was tough. I nearly quit several times. But he's worth it.” He laughed softly to himself. “Though I guess I don't need to tell you that.”

Stephen nodded. It wasn't really anything he couldn't have worked out for himself, but it seemed to mean something more coming from a him that looked like he'd been through the wringer but made it out okay the other side.

“I hope he wakes soon,” Stephen said, though it sounded more hollow out loud than he meant it. Still, the other Stephen smiled a little tiredly and patted Stephen on the arm before going back into the room.

* * * * *

The doctor made Cutter stay in bed for another two hours before he was finally allowed out, though only in a wheelchair. Stephen tried not to laugh at Cutter's expression but judging by the half-hearted glare he shot Stephen's way, he wasn't all that successful.

“Come on,” Stephen said, “this is a good chance to have a look around. I can pretend I'm lost.”

Cutter sighed. “Fine.”

Stephen kept his smile hidden and started to push Cutter away from the infirmary section. He neatly avoided the room where the other Cutter was lying and headed instead to the atrium to see what the ADD was looking like in what they had worked out was about twenty years in their future.

Christmas was obviously approaching given the amount of sparkling fairy lights and tinsel on display, and the table laden with mince pies and sausage rolls.

The other Connor and Abby were there, Connor tinkering as usual and Abby giving a commentary on something she was reading from a tablet. A small child wandered in, wearing reindeer antlers and Abby lifted her to her lap and held her close.

“They look happy,” Cutter said.

“Guess they finally had a proper conversation,” Stephen said. “You know that's what we need to do, when we get back? Talk. Really talk without yelling, or throwing punches.”

“I know. God, I know Stephen I just – Helen has always had a way of getting under my skin. Yours too by the looks of it. I wanted to think that you were the one person who would never go against me.”

Stephen sighed. “I overcompensated so that's on me. I said I agreed with you when I didn't because I felt guilty. I did what you asked without questioning because I felt guilty. And that's not a healthy way to live.”

Cutter, surprised, twisted his wheelchair around so he could properly look at Stephen. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes, it is. I'm sorry, Nick, for everything, I really am. But we can't go on like we were.”

Cutter stared at him but before he could say anything an alarm was going off and everyone started jumping to attention.

Stephen looked over at the ADD but that didn't appear to be where the alarm was coming from.

“What's going on?” he asked Connor.

“It's Cutter,” he said. “Our Cutter.” And then he ran out of the room followed quickly by Abby and their daughter.

* * * * *

Stephen and Cutter went back to the infirmary and waited for news. Eventually Connor came in with plastic cups filled with champagne.

“He's awake,” Connor said. “So, cheers!”

“And he's all there?” Cutter asked.

“First time for everything,” Stephen said as Connor laughed and nodded and disappeared again.

“Thank you very much,” Cutter said, but he was grinning and downed the champagne in one.

Stephen smiled around his own champagne. It had been a long time since they'd shared a smile, never mind a joke. He knew he'd missed it, but just how much was enough to make his heart ache.

“I'm not angry that you lied,” Cutter said suddenly. “I'm angry at myself for not seeing the signs. Helen was your supervisor. A relationship was inappropriate at best. You deserved better.”

“I went in with my eyes open, Nick.”

Cutter huffed a laugh. “No, you really didn't. You may think you know Helen but you didn't then and you certainly don't now.”

Stephen opened his mouth to argue but then stopped. Maybe it was time to admit to himself that he had been manipulated. It was a bruise to his ego, to the way he'd always thought of himself, but maybe that was what was necessary for them to get past this.

“Why did you stay?” Cutter asked. “You could have gone at any time. If Helen was dead, what would have been the point?”

“I – I -” Stephen hesitated, tried to swallow back words that didn't belong here in this place. They belonged in a different time. “I stayed for you. Because I let the wrong Cutter convince me what it was like to love and be loved.”

Cutter looked startled and then the ADD went off.

* * * * *

“Welcome home,” Lester said, as Stephen and Cutter came through the anomaly in the Forest of Dean. “I trust you're both in one piece?”

“More or less,” Cutter said, hobbling a little and leaning on Stephen.

“Medical for both of you. Come on, let's wrap this up people. Nothing more to see here.”

They let themselves be lead by Becker to one of the ARC jeeps and sat in the back while Becker and the others sorted out a rota to keep an eye on the anomaly.

The silence between them was awkward until Cutter put his hand over Stephen's. “I had no idea.”

Stephen smiled. “Yeah, you're not very good at this.”

Cutter leaned back in his seat. “I really am pretty terrible. You know I didn't even realise Helen was interested until she proposed.”

This struck Stephen as such an absurd thing to say that he started to laugh until tears were streaming down his eyes.

“Is he all right?” Becker asked as he got into the driver's seat.

It occurred to Cutter that Becker had probably never seen Stephen laugh before. Which then set Cutter off, laughing and shaking his head so much his ribs began to ache all over again. Becker looked at them both like he'd like to have them sectioned before turning back and starting the drive back home.

Eventually they calmed down, though every time they looked at each other it set off a fresh wave of hysterics until Stephen finally turned away completely and rested his head against the window, his shoulders shaking in silent mirth until they were almost home.

* * * * * *

Back at the ARC Stephen and Cutter were moved off to other rooms to be given a once over. The doctors announced themselves satisfied at the work of their future counterparts and eventually they were allowed to go home, though Cutter needed some support for his ribs and was told not to do anything strenuous for the next couple of weeks.

“Do you want – do you want to come back to mine?” Cutter asked, as he and Stephen made their way to the downstairs car park.

“You sure?”

Cutter shrugged, then winced. “I can't guarantee I'm up for much more than dinner and a conversation. But I think that's what we need, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Cutter smiled and let Stephen take his car keys and drive them home. It was time to put the past behind them, and focus on the future. Together.  



End file.
